


Fair Winds and Following Skies

by BlueNightingale



Category: Call of Duty
Genre: Call of Duty: Infinite Warfare, Fix-it fic, Gen, Happy Ending, how it should have ended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8897449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueNightingale/pseuds/BlueNightingale
Summary: Nick clung desperately to his grapple line and gasped for air.  He didn't know how it was possible, but by some divine stroke of luck, he was still alive.“This. Is. Raider.  I'm… still here.”
How Infinite Warfare's Campaign should have ended.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a one-shot I was compelled to write. Because that ending... made me cry like a baby. Amirite? Someone has to fix it, man. IW's Campaign is the best COD in a loooong time, IMHO. I just wanted a happy ending... *sniffles*

Nick clung desperately to his grapple line and gasped for air. He didn't know how it was possible, but by some divine stroke of luck, he was still alive.

The blast from Salter's strike on the SetDef Shipyard had sucked him out into the vacuum of space. It was his fortune to have ended up bouncing off the hull of the very Destroyer Salter and the remaining Marines had captured. In the moments he retained consciousness he had slowly managed to get his hands to work the clip on the carabiner at the end of his grapple line, and had successfully hitched himself to one of the payload doors of the Destroyer's port side missile compartments. Then he'd passed out.

He awareness returned in gradual increments. He was being dragged along by his grapple line, which was still attached to the hull of the unwieldy SDF destroyer. Every bone in his body ached. It felt like a monumental effort just to open his eyes. Slowly, he brought his arm up to hit the comm button on his suit.

“This… This is SCAR 1-1. Requesting assistance. Please r-respond.” He rasped out. His voice barely managing above a whisper.

The silence of space hung around him like a blanket, feeling close yet smothering. Time seemed to magnify in his mind, until he wasn't sure if seconds or minutes were passing by. At last, he heard a response.

“What was that? I didn't copy. Brooks say again.”

Ah, there it was. The always stern and unbearably strained voice of his second, his wingman, his XO, Nora Salter.

“Negative, SCAR 1-2, did not transmit. Unknown unit, identify immediately or you will be subject to hostile action.” Came the voice of Brooks, sounding somewhat calmer, but infinitely more weary.

Nick took a breath and gathered himself to speak once more.

“This. Is. Raider. I'm… still here.”

A moment of stillness.

“Nick?!? Oh my god! Nick is that you?” Shouted Salt, nearly blasting out his eardrums. Nick grimaced weakly for a moment, before he ran out of energy to move his face.

“I'm grappled to the port side hull. Send someone to retrieve me before I pass out again.” He mumbled before feeling his arm flop down beside him, all remaining energy expended on this last burst of speech.

He vaguely heard Nora respond, her urgent tone fading into the background as everything seemed to become very far away. He closed his eyes slowly, content to let go with the knowledge that he had done all he could, for now.

________________________________________

 

He woke up in the sickbay. Or at least what passed for a sickbay in these hideous SDF tubs. The smell of death and disinfectants were universal. 

“There you are! Sir, we were beginning to think you'd sleep the whole trip back.”

Nick frowned. What was that voice? He knew that voice….

“Ethan?” He whispered, hardly daring to hope.

“Yes, siree. New model now available with three times the awesomeness!” A cheerful voice called back. 

Nick blinked in confusion. Was there something wrong with his vision? He was seeing doubles… but no. Nick blinked again and squinted up. There were three of them. Three of the standard class enemy robots that he had gotten used to fighting at all of the SDF bases. His body involuntarily tensed up in preparation to attack.

“Captain? It's me. Your robotic bro Ethan.” They murmured to him quietly. The Captain felt himself choke up, and let out a quiet sob before he could reign himself in.

“Ethan.” He whispered, undisguised fondness and relief flooding his voice. “Glad.. you made it. Would’a missed you, buddy.”

“Yes, well… I managed to save my beautiful brain at the last second by uploading a copy of myself into these drones while you were making your way through SDF shipyard controls. Though, it takes three of them to hold just one of me… “

Reyes could practically hear the robotic eye-roll in Ethan’s voice, and felt his lips twitch up despite his bone-deep exhaustion.

“You are safe, Captain. Lt. Salter and the Marines retrieved you from outside the ship and brought you here to recover. You oxygen levels ran dangerously low, and you were beginning to asphyxiate.” Ethan told him carefully. Only his voice came in stereo. The three robots that hung over him, two on one side and one on the other, all spoke at the same time, giving his voice an odd echoing quality.

“Your memory may have been affected. What is the last thing you remember?” Ethan asked.

Nick shook his head and concentrated.

“I… you went down to disable the docking clamps so Salt and the others could fly out. I blew you up.” Nick warbled, feeling his eyes tear up. It had been a stressful day.

“Then I told Fever to give it all she had… and end this once and for all.”

“She ended it, alright.” Ethan said, in an admiring tone.

“The shipyard is gone. All enemy capital ships have been destroyed or disabled. The mission was completed, Captain. It's over.” 

Nick felt himself sink back into the bed, smiling faintly. Tears flowed freely down his face. All his men. So many men… they had not died in vain. 

Now...finally, he could rest easy.


End file.
